


Still waiting

by floof



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, Pining, Soulmates, WOO, i hate writing dialogue, present tense because author is an idiot, sap, some wanking, soulmate mark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floof/pseuds/floof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a soulmate, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Riiiiight so here's my stevetonyfest gift for capsicleonyourleft @ tumblr. They wanted soulmates and 616 so I tried my best!
> 
> The main pair is SteveTony, but there's also some (emphasis some) BuckyNatasha, HappyPepper, CarolJess, and PeterMj. Not enough to add them to the tags, though.
> 
> Oh yeah. I also fudged the timeline for my sanity, because dang. Dang. Also, went with 70 years in the ice since the timelines always getting revised anyway. Not that it really matters anymore but enough of that here is the fic!
> 
> Not beta'd, so there might be some places where I messed up tenses but I think I caught most of them. Shouldn't be impossible to read, at least.
> 
> _italics_ = thoughts

Almost everyone has one. A marking somewhere on their bodies, to show that somewhere out there, there's a partner just for them. Some people even have multiple marks, though the legitimacy of them is questioned.

The books Tony reads say that usually, the marks will glow when a match is found, and that match is your soul mate; romantic or platonic. (Sometimes he'll look at the pictures in the books, and think some of the so called 'platonic' soul mates look more romantic then the 'romantic' soul mates, but even as a young genius, the spectrum of sexuality will have to wait a few years for him to only start to understand).

Soul mate. 

It's fun to say, to roll around in his tongue, soul mate. Soul mate. Somewhere out there is his soul mate. He knows, because his mark has been there ever since he can remember. On the inside of his hip, easily hidden by clothing.

Because of it's placement, he can't touch it in public, and sometimes he envies those with marks on their wrists, or even their faces, though those are so easily mistaken for tattoos. 

But still, the mark keeps him company as he rubs his fingers over it, blue eyes gazing down at the strange mark. It's star shaped, and has four colors; red, white, blue, and gold. Each a line on the star, looking so warm, so full of love, but when Tony touches it – oh. It feels cold, so cold. 

Like ice. Like death, and sometimes when he falls asleep at night, hand on his hip, he'll have dreams of opening his eyes and seeing nothing but frost and deep, deep blue. He feels unreal, even as he recognizes the emotion isn't really his own, but then his eyes close, and he feels nothing but cold once more.

Tony wonders if that means his soul mate is dead, and when he asks his mother, she looks at him with sad eyes.

No, it does not, he finds out. When your soul mate dies, the mark simply...fades away. It's always there, she explains, but it becomes muted, and you can no longer get a sense of how your soul mate is when you touch it.

He frowns at that, stroking his mark again, even as she tells him not to. Maybe his soul mate lives in an Arctic climate, or is very, very sad. He wishes he could help them, wherever they are...

Later, Tony asks to see his mothers mark, because he is young and doesn't know better. She just gives him a sad look, her hands going to a place on her wrist, covered in jewelry. She tells him she loves his father very much, and that's all that matters in the end.

It isn't until years later, when he's identifying his parents bodies at the morgue, that he realizes why she never let him see. His parents weren't a match.

He strokes his own mark, through the inside of his pocket, and feels nothing but cold, cold.

~

Everyone is born with a mark somewhere on their body, letting them know that a soul mate is out there waiting for them. At least, that's how things are supposed to go. If Steve feels a little bitter about that, there's a good reason.

He doesn't have one. His mother tells him some people don't at first, not until their soul mate is born. When he frowns at that, she tries to shush him, telling him age doesn't matter as much when you are older.

So he continues to grow, waiting, watching, hoping. Still there's nothing.

Mother tells him maybe his soul mate will be platonic, since it's been years with no sign. She tells him there's no shame in that. Steve tries to roll the idea around in his mind, of being his soul mates big brother figure, while the two of them fell in love with different people – but. 

He still hopes for something he knows he'll never have. It's just as well. Every day, when he gets up and turns around in the mirror, hoping against hope that something, any kind of mark, will have appeared; he just sees his skinny, frail self.

Steve will probably die just as soon as he meets him or her, and while he might selfishly want a soul mate like nothing else, well. He doesn't want to hurt someone that badly either. To give them himself and then have life cruelly snatched away. 

He's seen people lose their soul mates before. It's never pretty. Some recover. Some don't. Either way, they're never the same. Oh it's not always a bad never the same, but even the happiest half of a soul feels bittersweet.

Steve can tell, can see with his artist eye, that even though they aren't rushing to meet death, they're looking forward to it. To their half becoming whole again.

With every turn in the mirror, he wonders where the other half of his soul is. He can feel it like an ache sometimes; a loss, though he'd have to have had it in the first place to miss it, right?

The years pass, and he remains half a soul; even when his body finally becomes what has always been in his heart.

When he meets Bucky and instantly connects with him he winces; hoping that this kid; this scrappy little teen who refuses to leave the base and refuses to even think about not being part of this war; hopes that he isn't his soul mate.

The mirror still shows nothing when Steve checks later that night, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Even if his relationship with the kid does turn out pretty brotherly in the end. 

It's a relief because Steve doesn't want to meet his soul mate in the war, and he doesn't want Bucky to pretend like he's okay with not having a romantic soul mate. Kid's a little lost on women, at times.

It turns out he was worried for nothing, when later; Bucky shows him his mark; right on the shoulder of his left arm. It's a white star, but there's a red hour glass shape overlaying it. The kid grins at him and boasts about how somewhere out there is his dream girl.

It's not the German girl, even though Bucky's clearly over the moon for her. Steve can tell he's sad about that, so later, he tells him how Peggy isn't his soul mate either. Bucky doesn't believe him at first, not until he tells him about the mark he saw on her thigh.

The kid goes a little red faced at that, and leans closer, clearly wanting to know more, but Steve stops his tale there. He might remember what it's like to be a teenager, all hormones and hot breaths in the night, but he's not about to disrespect Peggy's privacy like that. 

What happened between them was love; even if it wasn't finding the other half of your soul love; and Steve is going to cherish that memory forever.

It turns out forever isn't very long. 

There's so much noise – Bucky being an idiot, because of course the world needs him just as much as it needs Captain America – then there's nothing but water, and Steve slowly feels the blood in his veins turn to ice.

Steve guesses this means he was never more then half a soul after all. Funny, that. For all his talk about being a hero, fighting the good fight; he's just a half. He'd laugh if he could, but...

Nothing. There's nothing. He's gone. It's so cold.

~

Years pass, decades; the world turns. Life goes on. Without the corpse floating in the sea; encased in it's icy tomb. 

Then. Then, some how. Some how – it's impossible, it is, but somehow, the corpses eyes open. There's a burning sensation on it's chest. 

The soul feels loved, and while he can't look down to see the new mark above his heart; red, white, blue and gold; in the shape of a star, he knows it is there.

He's no longer a half. He never was. All he has to do is meet his partner and they'll finally be complete.

But even love can't keep the ice back forever and oh he wishes he could stroke the mark, let the other half of his soul know that _it's okay, ssh, don't cry, don't, I'm here_ – he cannot.

The ice creeps ever closer, gets impossibly colder, and the soul becomes a corpse once more.

~

For the first time in his life, Anthony Edward Stark feels something other then biting cold from his mark. It's just a shame he's not sure if it's real. Not when there's fire in his veins, infection burning at his chest; or maybe that's the shrapnel; and Yinsen at his side, telling him it's not time to die yet. 

There's too much to make up for, Tony's got to live, live. Even if he doesn't want to. Especially if he doesn't want to.

He thinks if it wasn't for the pulse of what can only be called 'love' from his mark, whispered words in his mind he knows cannot be real; he might not have made it through the hellish operation that resulted in the chest plate which keeps him alive. Later, he hopes he imagined it.

Wouldn't do for his soul mate to have to deal with damaged goods. That's all Tony is now, damaged goods. He can't go too long without recharging his chest plate, recharging his literally broken heart, and really? It's nothing less then he deserves.

Jim Rhodes is a good man; and Tony knows he never would've gotten out of the jungle without his help; metal suit or no. Sometimes, when he's being fanciful; he'll imagine that the mark on Rhodey's side is a star with four colors. That the bond he shares with the other man is one of the soul; platonic though it may be.

The mark looks nothing like a star, and everything like what Rhodey is; brave, loyal, and just. More then a fighter, a protector to. Tony's lucky the man has decided he needs protecting, even if he puts up a fight about it. He's so, so lucky.

Because there's so much he needs to make up for.

Sorry is just a word, and actions speaker louder then words. For all the pain and death he's caused, 'sorry' can never be enough. Iron Man is just the start, and even then Tony doubts he'll ever get it right. He's ruined so much, how can he even hope for a tiny sliver of redemption?

But still... he sometimes dares to hope. When Pepper Potts points out a mistake in the accounting, He shakes her hand, looking at her beautiful features; and his heart beats a little faster; going _please please please_ – but there's nothing. 

No warmth, no sudden revelation. No pulse of 'I'm here for you' from the mark on his hip. She's not his soul mate. There's a bitter taste on his tongue, but he shoves it down. Pepper deserves better then him anyway.

Later, when Tony's rescued by one Harold Hogan, he happens to spot a mark on the man's hand, easily hidden by a pair of boxing gloves. It looks so much like one he happened to spy on the small of Peppers back once, that he encourages Happy to go after the fiery redhead. To not give up hope.

Just because he'll never find his soul mate, never be good enough for his soul mate; doesn't mean his friends don't deserve a little happiness.

If Tony spends a little too much time stroking the four colored star when he's alone, wishing he felt something more then cold; well. Whose going to know?

He's not about to tell, and the mark offers up nothing but a numbing sensation in his fingertips. Or maybe he's just forgotten to charge the chest plate again. Damn.

~

Alive? No.

Dead? No.

Cold – yes – but – getting warmer; his blood heating up; drips of freezing cold water sliding down his corpse skin. Then there's more warmth; of a different kind. There's shocked gasps all around him, but Steve doesn't open his eyes just yet, even as his fingers flutter, trying to grip at his shield.

There's a weight on his heart that's never been there before. A longing, burning bright; like something was just out of his reach – and that's when he opens his eyes and all hell breaks loose.

Hydra? Certainly not human, and not friendly either – a robot, a fairy woman, a giant, a man who desperately needs a haircut – yelling, they're all yelling and it's too much. He just he wants to find Bucky. Find out where he is; why he's so cold; why his muscles feel like they've been locked up for ages.

If he is truthful to himself, and Steve feels his heart beat a little faster as the thought winds it's way through his head; he also wants, no, needs to find out something else. Like why his heart hurts so much, why it feels like if he just reaches out with his hands and clasps onto something, it will all be okay.

He's not sure what that something is but he knows it's there. Just out of his reach but oh so close.

Everything's too loud and too much, so he does what he's always done. Soldiers on. Keeps fighting, keeps living; half a soul; because that seems to be all the world wants from Steven Rogers. Whether he likes it or not.

Later, when everything is clearer, and the very obviously green superheroes are flitting about, he takes a moment to himself. As he leans against a tree, a sigh leaving his form, the robot – Iron Man – comes over. Steve would almost say he looks apologetic.

Strange, how he can tell. It's in the way Iron Man's back slumps just slightly; his shoulders falling to the sides. Steve doesn't move away as he joins him.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry.” Iron Man raises a hand, gesturing like somehow that would make everything okay. It doesn't, but Steve's heart beats just a little faster as the mechanical voice fills his ears. 

“It has to be hard – okay, it has to really suck...to lose everything. But, you know, you're still a hero.” Steve swears he hears a faint sigh, and he cocks his head as Iron Man continues on. “I – we all looked up to you. Everyone looked up to you. If you want....there's a place for you on the Avengers.”

Truthfully? He's not sure about more fighting. When he'd dared to dream about the end of the war, he hadn't always seen himself alive at the end of it. When he did, Steve dreamed about traveling around, visiting orphanages; on the off chance his soul mate happened to be born after the war. 

Sometimes he'd even dared to hope that if he had one, they would be. If he could protect at least half his soul from the horrors he'd seen...and yet. 

For all things have changed – Steve only has to look around to see that – one thing has remained the same. Fighting; battle; man vs man. It's like the war didn't mean anything at all.

But just the same, he nods his head. It's not like he has anywhere else he needs to be. Everyone who really knew him is dead. He tries to push back thoughts about how he'd like to join them, but doesn't quite succeed.

“Mr. Stark will take care of everything. Just – just focus on settling in for now, Okay Cap?” Steve blinks at the nickname, his chest burning for some reason he can't place, but he doesn't question it.

“Mr. Stark?”

“My employer, and the man behind most of the funding for the Avengers. Being a superhero is expensive, wouldn't you know?” There's laughter in that mechanized voice; and it's followed by a fluttering in Steve's chest again. “You'll meet him later I'm sure. I – it's really great to meet you.”

~

_It's really great to meet you._

The words echo in Tony's head as he sighs; taking off the armor piece by piece until only the chest plate remains. That he very carefully layers clothing on top of; so he still has some what of a normal outline – and Iron Man's secret identity remains a secret a little longer.

“'It's really great to meet you'. Man's a legend, a living legend now, and...” He sighs again, shaking his head. “And you're supposed to be so eloquent, Tony.” He looks at himself in the mirror, spying a bruise he'll have to put concealer on before going to meet Captain America for the 'first' time.

Before he pulls up his pants, Tony pauses to rub at the mark on his hip. It doesn't feel cold for once, in fact it's felt almost on fire; too hot; like a raw nerve, like shrapnel digging into his heart; ever since they pulled Cap out of the ice. 

For a moment, when he'd first looked into Captain America's – into Steve's – azure eyes, he could've sworn the mark glowed. 

Heh.

Must mean his soul mate, wherever they are; is a fan of Captain America. Should've known by the shape and colors of the mark, huh? The chuckle that leaves him is a little self depreciating. At least if Tony ever meets the person, he'll be able to introduce them. Might make up for being a war profiteer.

Former, yes, but it's not like that'll really matter in the long run.

Bruises concealed, dressed modestly; at least for him; and Iron Man all put away, Tony heads up to where he's instructed Jarvis to room Captain Rogers. For as long as he wants. 

A little part of his heart hopes he stays forever, followed by a sort of pulsing sensation on his hip, but he ignores it. First impressions matter the most, after all. It's his mansion, really, so Tony doesn't bother to knock when he opens the door.

When he's gripping the doorknob a moment later; breath knocked out of him like a kick to the chest; he almost wishes he had. 'Cause there, right in front of him, is Steven Rogers, pulling on a shirt from the assortment Jarvis had left for him per Tony's Instructions.

He only catches but a glimpse; still, Tony knows, knows, knows this is his soul mate. There's a mark in the shape of a star on just over Steve's heart; the colors red, white, blue, and gold intermingling inside it. It glows faintly, and Tony can feel his own mark burning – all he has to do is reach out and touch – and -

Tony shoves his hands in his pockets so fast he's almost afraid he'll rip them off. No. Cap can't be his soul mate. Even if he did sometimes pretend when he was a little kid; hey, everyone wanted to be Bucky, or a member of the commandos, or even Captain America himself, right? Even then he'd known not to put a voice to the feelings inside his heart.

Just a little kid playing, daydreaming – not. Not real. 

Tony goes back and forth over whether he even deserves to have a soul mate, after everything he's done. All the lives he's taken, destroyed. Even if he does, he definitely doesn't deserve the person standing across from him. That can't be the other half of his soul.

He's too good, too pure. And Tony? Tony's...not.

“Captain Rogers -” He gulps, fumbling over his words. This is not how he'd imagined meeting his soul mate to go. At all.

“Please. Call me Steve.” The man looks weary; his azure eyes tired, and Tony so wants to reach out, brush gold hair away from his face – his hands flutter in his pockets and he steels his resolve. 

“Steve then.” Tony grins, tilting his head to the side to give Steve one of his award winning smiles. Already a plans forming in his head. It'll take some work to never shake Steve's hand, and he'll have to find someone worthy of Cap to make up for not being able to join souls; but – it's doable. 

Eventually 'fate' or whatever will realize the mistake it's made, and the mark on Steve's chest will change into something else. Make him join with some one more worthy then Tony. Til then?

Iron Man will just have to be around a lot more then Tony Stark, and well. That's really for the better.

“Please forgive me for not offering a hand” Tony looks down, biting his lip, brows knitting in feigned pain. “But I burned myself working earlier and I'm a little tender.” 

“Are you alright?” Despite how tired he is, there is a look of concern on his face as Steve takes a step towards him. Tony's mark burns, his soul urges him to go forward and be whole like they were always meant to be – but he takes a step back instead. 

“I'm fine. Don't worry your head about it.” Looking up, Tony offers him an almost shy smile. “I'm sure you'll get sick of hearing this, but Sir, it's uh – it's....It's really greet to meet you.”

~

At first, there isn't a lot which makes the future bearable. The Avengers; fighting, saving people. It all sort of passes him by like a dream. If Steve closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he's back in the war. After all, different time, different place; still the same problems as ever. 

It's not that he isn't grateful for the way things have progressed. For the rights people now have. He is. It's just those rights never should have been contested in the first place; and there's still so much left to fight for. 

Seventy years have passed and there's still so much left to do? Really?

Maybe that's part of why he just can't give up. Why he can't set down the shield and retire. He has a reason to keep on living, and...and...

If Steve's being selfish, he'll admit another reason he can't give in to the weight ever present on his shoulders. Why he can't just slip back into dreams filled with gunshots and bloody bandages; screaming men and the scent of death filling the air. That reason is right over his heart; though he can scarcely believe it.

When he'd first looked into a mirror after waking up from the ice, he'd stared a good long time. There was a soul mark. Right above his heart; and when he touched it, it was warm. He'd felt a sense of loss, of pride, and above all the will to never give in. He'd grinned at his reflection, gaze both proud and yearning.

_So, soul mate, that's something we have in common then. I won't give up either. It may have taken seventy years for you to appear, but I'll find you even if I have to wait seventy more. And that's a promise._

The other half of his soul is out there somewhere; he just has to find them. 

Steve looks for them in his own way; between missions with the Avengers; while he's out learning about the new world. There are many women who catch his eye; and he'll admit to himself some men, to. That's not something he expected to learn about himself, but he can't say he minds, either.

It might have something to do with how attractive he finds Tony Stark. Even though the man's more then a little clumsy. Every time they meet, he's got another cut or bruise, another reason to hang back and not get too close to Steve. 

He's always doing that, and it aches more then Steve would like to admit. Sometimes he'll hear faint whispers in his mind; _No no no – you don't want me, I'm bad for you._ But they're always gone before he can reach out to help Tony up.

“You don't want my blood all over you, Steve – No, really, it's okay, I'm fine, just slipped in the shop fixing up the armor.”

Ah. The armor. Iron Man, Tony's bodyguard. Probably the closest friend Steve has right now. Both a partner at his back during fights; and a willing ear when Steve can't sleep, when the echoes of long past battles ring in his mind.

Which brings up another thing. Was it possible to be attracted to robots? Well, okay, he knew Iron Man wasn't really a robot; but Tony's bodyguard; still. He looked the part. All golden metal plates and red bolts, perfectly slotted into place. 

The only human thing about him Steve ever caught a glimpse of where his blue, blue eyes. Every time he did, he'd find himself throwing an arm around his partners shoulder; hoping that maybe it was enough contact for a bond to form.

Even if he isn't entirely sure Iron Man is the other half of his soul. Because here's where it got confusing...

As much as Steve can't take his eyes off Tony when they're both in the same room; he also can't look away from Iron Man. There was just something about **both** of them which draws his eye, makes his heart beat a little faster, and even makes his mark pang with want.

But try as Steve might, he can't even get Iron Man to take off a gauntlet, let him feel his skin for just a moment, let him touch the human encased in the armor. 

“You took a pretty bad hit back there Shellhead – just let me -”

“I'm fine Winghead, I'm fine. The armor protects me – only the best from Mr. Stark.”

“Iron Man please, it's dented – I can smell blood-”

“Steve. Trust me. I'm fine.”

The words; _I love that you care – but I can't_ would echo through his mind during these times, his mark burning on his skin. Again, so like the faint words he sometimes got from Tony when he pressed a little too hard.

Curious. Also, intriguing. There was a mystery about the two of them; why both called to his soul, and wouldn't let him get too close.

So despite wanting to, Steve doesn't push it. He just has coffee waiting with a straw in it while he reads in mansions library late at night, knowing sooner or later; Shellhead will show.

They don't always talk, but Iron Man will take the mug, bring the straw to the slit in his face plate, and drink, tilting his head to the side, shoulders rolling in a silent apology.

It's almost enough. Steve can almost believe that this is his soul mate, and even if they never touch skin to skin, never complete the bond which will make them whole; it's okay. So long as he has at least this.

But then the next day, along comes Tony, confusing him all the more as his mark burns in a familiar way.

“How did you hurt yourself this time, Mr. Stark?” Laughter, his own, then Tony's. That laugh never fails to bring a smile to Steve's face.

“I thought I told you, it's just Tony.”

“Well then, Just Tony, what's with the butterfly bandages?” 

“Tripped and fell.”

“Again? Maybe you should be the one wearing armor.” Tony's face goes a little pale at that, and he steps back, so much so that Steve reaches out to offer him a hand, but he doesn't take it. Tony never does. 

It hurts Steve more then he'd like to admit.

“I uh – I've got to go. Funny you should mention the armor, I just remembered Iron Man said the left shoulder was feeling a little stiff.”

“But you just left the shop...” It's too late, Tony's gone. Leaving Steve alone again, always alone.

Hours later, and well. He's not alone now, as he lays back on his bed, one hand fumbling for some lotion while the other tugs down his zipper. There's no one else in the room with him, but still, he's never really alone. His soul mate's out there somewhere.

Steve wonders if they can feel this. If they can feel him palming himself, the lotion warming up in his hand as he strokes his length up and down, slowly at first. He imagines it's their hands; wonders what they feel like.

Is it a woman, soft and sweet, long fingernails just barely scratching at his skin? Or is it a man, hands broader and callused; joining his own as they pump together, lips locking. Briefly, he imagines cool metal against his hot flesh, a gauntlet with interlocking plates at the joints. 

Then he imagines the rough feel of a beard against his own smooth skin, though he's never kissed a man before. Blue eyes twinkling up at him as a slow grin forms.

Those last two images feel right; so Steve keeps going. His left hand wanders up his chest even as his right hand speeds up. It settles against the mark over his heart; and oh; that warmth. It's enough to send him spilling all over his hand, silently into the night.

Steve pants a long time afterwards; hand never leaving his mark. _Did you feel that, soul mate?_

He hopes so.

Steve has no way of knowing that across the mansion, Tony has just come in his pants; skin flushed and heart beating frantically; his hand rubbing the mark on his hip.

If he did, he'd probably just be proud.

~

Tony really can't keep doing this. He knows it, he does, but. What's the alternative? To leave the Avengers? To go solo again; permanently this time, not just doing his own thing here and there. It's weird, to have back up, yeah, but it's nice to.

That and well. Tony's not sure he can give up seeing his soul mate whenever he wants to. Even if they haven't bonded; he feels better just seeing Steve. Knowing he's alive and okay. Knowing that if he touches the mark on his hip, it won't feel cold anymore, but warm, alive.

Tony's felt alone for as long as he can remember, even though he could always touch his mark and feel his soul mate. But it wasn't the same before. They might not have bonded, but the taste of something more isn't one he's ready to let go of. Not just yet.

Every day his mark's a little warmer, and he can feel himself falling a little more in love with his soul mate. But he just can't tell him that.

Steve deserves better, he does. Even without Tony's past, his heart's so weak that he might not live that long despite chest piece upgrades; despite being vigilante about charging his heart. Now that he's got a reason to, at least.

There have been too many close calls as it is. Steve reaching out to steady him as he stumbles into the kitchen, seeking coffee, and occasionally food. Steve offering him a hand up when he's tripped and fallen, concern in those azure eyes over how 'You're always getting hurt, Tony'.

Tony's taken to wearing long sleeves shirts and wraps around his hands, just in case. But he's playing with fire and he knows it.

Just like he how he knows this idea is exceptionally bad.

“Steve....I don't know. I've got Iron Man to protect me. That's what I pay him for, you know.” Tony chuckles as he shakes his head, trying to wave off Steve's concern. Being asked to a sparring match; or really 'training' isn't what he expected when Steve called him to the gym. He wants to say yes but it's such a bad idea.

A bad, bad idea.

“Tony, you can't count on your bodyguard forever.” There's a twinkle in Steve's eyes as he shakes his head and gestures towards the mats. “C'mon. It'll be fun.”

He really shouldn't do this. There's so many ways this could go wrong. One slip of the hand, and the game is over. Cap – Steve – will be stuck with him as a soul mate forever. Tony opens his mouth to refuse, and that's when Steve gives him one last, pathetic look.

“Please? I care about you. I consider you a friend, Tony.” Steve looks down, shaking his head. “And it kills me that you're always getting hurt. I trust Shellhead, I do. But let me protect you in my own way, just a little. Please?”

“I...alright Steve.” Damn. Damn but this isn't going to go well. 

Unease colors his skin as Tony strips off his shirt, leaving him in a tank top over the chest piece. He knows it leaves him with a bit of a boxy shape, but he's not about to explain why, even with the look Steve gives him. As he wraps athletic tape over his hands, he glances back at Steve, prepared to say no one more time.

One of the shoulder straps of Steve's tee has fallen, revealing the soul mark on his chest. The sight of it makes his own burn a little, and Tony gulps.

Well. Too late now. He's fallen this far, might as well go the whole way. Fire burns hot he knows, but sometimes it's worth it in the end.

Tony takes a fighting stance. Maybe there's a chance – Steve'll go gentle on him, he will. He's not Iron Man right now, He's Tony Stark. Sponsor and friend of the Avengers, but not on it. This is just some friendly training, just Steve showing him some moves.

But the only thing gentle about this is how Steve corrects his form, and then they're off. Tony dodges as best he can; getting a few hits in but not many. It'd sting his pride if he'd let it, but he's too busy trying not to get hit. 

As much as he's trained with Cap; as much as he's worked with him; it's entirely different trying to fight him.

A blow to the chest sends him reeling; and his vision goes spotty as he hits the ground. Panting hard, Tony throws an arm over his eyes. That was...embarrassing.

“Not too bad for your first time, it'll get easier. Now get up soldier, we're not done yet.” Steve leans down, offering a hand once more, and this time Tony isn't quick enough to pull away. He's too winded, stars still blurring in his vision.

Then as Steve's hand wraps around his own, there are different stars. The athletic tape has unwound enough that he finally, finally touches Steve, skin to skin. Tony's breath leaves him as his mark burns bright; warmth filling him.

It's wonderful.

It's terrible.

It's inescapable.

There isn't any flash of light like fairy tales say and romantic movies like to center on. It's all internal, and warm. Tony thinks his eyes slip closed, but he isn't sure. He's too busy seeing stars; feeling whole for the first time in his life.

Never alone; he'll never be alone for the rest of his – their – lives.

He's gasping, or maybe it's Steve. Then he's being pulled up from the floor, and there's broad arms around him and rough lips against his own. Despite his misgivings about this, Tony can't keep from kissing back. 

Soul mate. This was how it was always supposed to be. He's been an idiot for trying to stop this.

“You -” 

“Steve I-”

“I'm just so glad-”

“There's a lot I have to tell you....”

“You're Iron Man, aren't you.”

“How did-”

“Soul mate.” Steve grins at him, and Tony grins back. Yeah.

Soul mate. 

He reaches up, hand wandering over Steve's chest to the mark right above his heart, feeling his soul mate shiver. Steve's pulse is fast even for him, and Tony grins, knowing he's the reason.

“So I guess there's no question about whether we're romantic or platonic soul mates, huh?”

“Don't even joke Soldier.” Steve's lips are against his for too short of a moment before he pulls away, panting for breath. 

Tony's blissed out. It's been forever since he felt this good. He leans forward for another kiss, but Steve stops him, catches his hands. He's about to complain when Steve gives him a sheepish look.

“I want more kissing, I do – and maybe more later – but....Where's your mark?” The look on his soul mates face is so innocent, so pleading, despite all that Steve's seen, that Tony can't help but give in.

He takes a step back, ignores Steve's gasp as he steps out of his pants, and tugs down his thong just a little so the soul mark is in view. Then he hisses as a broad hand covers it, the mark pulsing with love and more then a little lust as it's stroked.

“You've kept me waiting, soul mate.” Steve keeps on stroking, though. His tone is only mildly chiding, almost playful.

“I could say the same to you.” Tony places his hand on Steve's mark, uncaring how it'll look if anyone sees them now.

He has a lot to explain, things Steve needs to know before they go further. Something tells Tony it won't matter to Steve, but still. He's not naive enough to think everything will be sunshine and rainbows, cotton candy and cookies. They're superheroes; their lives are on the line every time they go out and fight. 

But for right now, Tony's just going to sit back and enjoy this.

He's got his soul mate, and his soul mate's got him. The world can wait just a little longer.

~

Years pass, almost a decade. Steve has to admit they've had their ups and downs. Even being two halves of one soul; they don't agree on everything. They don't agree on a lot, actually. But they both want the same thing, in the end. They just argue over how to reach it. 

If Steve is feeling poetic; he might describe them as a sword and shield; and he's not always the shield part, either. There's a storm coming, he can sense it; even if he isn't as politically savvy as his soul mate.

He doesn't need to stroke the mark on his chest to know something's bothering his soul mate. Tony's worry echoes in his mind just the same, and it's getting a little too much to ignore. So he stands up from where he's sketching in the common room of the tower; nodding towards the rest of the team. 

His family, really. Though the roster may change; each and every one of the avengers is part of his family. He always comes back to them, even if he leaves for awhile. Tony knows that to; and he's the same way. 

Another reason they're such a good match; why they ended up soul mates.

Of course, like any family, Steve's closer to some then others. Still...as Steve looks around, he can't help but smile. 

Danny, Luke, and Jessica are all situated on one of the couches, Danielle finally asleep on her mother's lap. He's got his suspicions on if that duo is really a trio, but if they want him to know, they'll tell him. He's content to watch and smile at their happiness no matter what kind it is.

To his right, on another one of the couches, a different Jessica lounges. She's got her head in Carol's lap, the blonde's fingers running through her hair. Carol catches his eye, tilts her head in a silent question. 

He shrugs, then nods back at her, offers her a little eye roll of his own. Yes, he's going to go check on Tony. She should stop worrying about his soul mate and focus on her own. Carol laughs a little in response; and does just that, leaning down to kiss Jessica on the lips.

Steve shakes his head in fondness as he heads towards the kitchen. Tony isn't there, just Peter and Mary Jane; the latter telling the former to stop walking on the ceiling; he's leaving footprints, Peter, footprints. They both pause as he comes in, but then go back to what they were doing. 

A sense of contentment fills him as he makes a couple of sandwiches and loads them on a tray; followed by two cups of coffee. One, black and stronger then he really should be letting Tony drink; the other, even stronger then that and he's not about to let Tony take more then a few sips. 

It's the eyes that get him in the end. They're just so cute as Tony tries for an impression of a puppy. An oil covered, unwashed, greasy, overtired puppy, but one Steve wants to stroke just the same. Then bathe and put to bed.

Steve shakes his head as he heads towards his soul mate. He must be going senile in his old age.

The way his man is bending over a bunch of different computer screens worries him as Steve enters the workshop. Tony looks like he's been defeated before the battle's even started.

“Tony?” Steve sets the tray down, scooting a sandwich to his lover first, then takes a seat next to him, looking pointedly at the empty one beside it. With a sigh, Tony sits down in it beside him, and takes a few bites of the sandwich.

Well. At least it's something. Tony will talk when he's ready, Steve knows that much. It doesn't stop him from reaching over; his hand sneaking into his soul mates pants. Not for anything perverted; though Tony's breath hitches. 

It's just so that Steve can rub his fingers along the mark on Tony's hip, sending wave after wave of love and support.

“Whatever it is, You know we'll face it together.” _If you'll just let me help you._ Maybe the words echo in Tony's mind, and maybe they don't. Soul bonds are weird like that. Still, he knows the feeling must have gotten across.

Steve pulls back his hand after one last caress; and digs into his own sandwich. Minutes pass where the only sound is the two of them eating.

It's not a bad silence. A little heavy, a little worrisome; but he's with his soul mate, so how could he be worried? 

“Steve....” Tony sighs, looking down into his coffee. He's barely even taken a sip, which is how Steve knows something' really wrong. “I need to talk to you about something...and you're not going to like what.”

Steve nods at him to continue, so Tony does. He's right; Steve doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all. But then, when Tony points out the alternatives...what the government is prepared to do instead, Steve nods.

“There has to be something we can do. C'mon Tony, use that big brain of yours. We'll think of a compromise.” The smile Steve gets in return is a little watery, so he leans forward to kiss his soul mate, his lover, partner.

It'll be okay. It has to be. They'll find a way to fix this. 

And they do. Talking long through the night; weighing pros and cons to each idea; come morning, they've got a solution. It's not perfect and it's not going to go over well with everyone; but it's a plan none the less.

The two of them join hands as they head up to share the news with the rest of the team. A united front, even if they are bearing bad news.

It'll be okay. They've faced worse. They're soul mates; and they'll always face every challenge together.

~

**Epilogue:**

Of the many universes Reed Richards checked; he only found a few where the Super Hero Registration Act didn't rip apart the entire super hero community. One was a universe where Natasha Stark and Steve Rogers were married. 

He should have checked a little farther, into this universe; where Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are both the other half of each others soul. The act does go into effect; but with so many stipulations, every hero has a bit of protection.

Then the skrulls attack; and the whole act is forgotten; tossed aside. Turns out the world needs heroes, whether those heroes identities are known or not. Funny how that works.

Through it all, two soul mates keep on fighting; always having each others backs. Even when they aren't Captain America and Iron Man; even when someone else has one or both of those mantles, they're still heroes. Still partners. Still soul mates.

Still very much in love.

Oh, and if there are incursions? They don't touch this world. Maybe it's luck, maybe it's love. Things aren't always easy, or happy. But it's a world worth living in.

Steve and Tony, Captain America and Iron Man; Past and Future; the two of them help to keep it that way. 

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I warned you it was sappy. I wanted to go with the canon reveal of Iron Man's identity but it didn't really work here, so.
> 
> I fixed civil war as best I could, at least in this au, and the incursions? I'm sure happened but they either a: don't know, or b: find a way out, or c: survive, because it's my fic and i say so.
> 
> I couldn't work present day BuckyNat into the fic but they definitely find each other. Bucky misses having his mark on his left arm, but they still know they're each others soul mate. I forgot to ask if my giftee was okay with LukeDannyJess, so if that's your thing, then Cap's right. If not, he's just being nosy.


End file.
